A few calls and a lot of pleading with others to email additional copies eventually works in my favor. My class lines up in the in the hallway, waiting for their turn to enter the cafeteria when I finally join them. I walk down the line and introduce myself to each student personally. As expected, there are a few who are not shy at all and others who aren’t so sure about me yet.
Five-year-old kids are my favorite age group to teach. Kindergarten can be so much fun and a time of tremendous discovery, given the right encouragement, or they can be tiny terrors.
There’s no way to tell which way the wind will blow from one day to the next.
At the end of the line, watching all the students march toward the cafeteria, a young lady greets me with a smile as I approach. “You must be Daisy. Welcome to Peachtree Elementary. I’m Glenna Porter, the paraprofessional assigned to your class. I’m looking forward to working with you.”
“Nice to meet you, Glenna. I’m not late for work, I promise. We ran into a paperwork snag that took all morning to correct. I hope you haven’t had too hard of a time keeping them occupied alone.”
“Not at all. Don’t worry about it. Ours is the best of the four kindergarten classes.” She smiles as she opens the door and reminds the kids to keep their voices down as they go through the line.
As we walk in with them, Glenna gives me the rundown on the school lunch policies and expectations. I’m relieved to find there’s nothing out of the ordinary from the last school where I taught. This one is much more upscale, being a private school. Everything is still bright and shiny. The walls are freshly painted, the tables are new, and the floor is squeaky clean.
Nothing but the best here.
After we ensure all the children have their lunches and find their seats, Glenna and I take ours.
“How long have you worked here, Glenna?”
“Three years, and I still love it. The staff here is great. Everyone is so easy to work with and gets along like family. I’ve never seen a school like it before. Usually the politics and mean girl cliques make life miserable. Maybe it’s different here because the teachers aren’t friends with any of the parents. We’re on opposite ends of the tax bracket range from the parents of our students.” She laughs good-naturedly, but I know exactly what she means. The teachers and parents don’t run in the same circles, so the chances of nepotism are low.
We chat over our meals until it’s time to line up the students again. When we reach the classroom, everyone automatically goes to their assigned station for free art time. I walk around and ask each child about their painting. I’m not a psychiatrist, but I’ve learned a lot about what’s going on inside their little heads just by talking about their art. Most of the boys draw their favorite superhero, giving me a glimpse of how they’d like to see themselves one day. Most girls draw something pretty, sunshine and flowers, friends and family, or princesses and castles.
“What a pretty picture. Who is this?” I kneel beside one beautiful little girl with thick black hair and big, beautiful blue eyes.
“This is my mommy in my room with me. We play dress up and I get to wear a crown, like a princess.” She smiles brightly as she tells me about her home, animatedly explaining every detail. She’s a bright little girl, seemingly already ahead of some of her classmates.
“That sounds like so much fun.”
“It is. But we haven’t played this in a long time.” Her face drops and her demeanor changes noticeably.
“Oh, I bet she’s just busy with work and stuff. She’ll play with you again soon.”
“Yeah, she will when she comes back home.”
Not knowing the family situation in the home, I decide against pressing for more information today. Her sunny disposition has already dimmed somewhat. “Well, you’ve drawn a beautiful picture.”
Her bright smile is back, making her eyes sparkle and her face light up. “Thank you, Miss Daisy.”
One subject bleeds into another as we move through the day. Keeping the class of twenty busy and entertained is both exhausting and rewarding. At last, their time for free play arrives. The leaders from two of the four classrooms alternate supervising playtime activities for the entire grade, giving us a much needed break. While the kids are outside enjoying their recess time, Glenna and I take some time to talk openly and get to know each other better.
“Is there a Mr. Daisy around?” Glenna props her feet up on her desk.
“No, definitely not. What about a Mr. Glenna?”
“Unfortunately, not yet. My charm and wit seem to be lost on the average male around here. Maybe I need to move.” She purses her lips to the side, half kidding and half serious.
“Don’t waste your time. No matter how far from home you go, men are still the same. You’d be better off sticking around here, finding someone who sucks the least.” I should know. I flew over fourteen hundred miles only for some jerk to dump me the day before our vacation ended.
He didn’t even say goodbye. That’s how much I meant to him.
“You’re probably right. Plus, searching for some fictional man isn’t worth leaving my friends and my incredible job. Not that I’ll ever become a millionaire doing this, but my peace of mind is worth much more to me.” She speaks as though she has a story to tell behind that statement. When she’s ready, she’ll tell me.
“Have you not met any single fathers here, bringing their kids to school? Surely there are a few available dudes in the Buckhead area you’d be interested in dating.”
“You’d think so, right? The only problem is the single men who
